


for the last time, meet me at the same place

by orphan_account



Series: the end of things [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 13:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3069749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Destiny. She huffs out a laugh, imagines her father, with all his bravado and talk of fate and the stone-set path he believed in. A mocking smile plays on her lips. She wonders what he'd make of this. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In which the end of all things makes for interesting bedfellows (perhaps literally) and uneasy reconciliations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the last time, meet me at the same place

**Author's Note:**

> part of an ongoing series; title from "Tomorrow" by Niki and the Dove

She practises assembling a gun, nimble fingers deftly slotting the pieces together and clicking them into place; a well-rehearsed dance, flurrying from one smooth move to the next. The gun takes shape within her hands, a casual smirk forming as she inserts the final piece. Her eyes flicker to her watch. A record time blinks back at her.

Not that she'd have any use for that particular skill anymore.

She doesn't know why she keeps training. Somewhere, deep down, she knows it's because she doesn't truly believe the end will come, but she makes excuses. In case she gets attacked by a wild animal. In case she gets attacked by HYDRA (not that they'd even remember her). In case she finds herself stranded, lost, isolated.

Just in case.

Flicking the safety on and off aimlessly, she studies the engraving as if she can finally delve meaning from the letters which have haunted her for years.

_DJ._

_Daisy._

She still doesn't feel as if those letters truly belong to her, doesn't see a Daisy in her war-roughened image; her reflection only shows Skye.

Destiny. She huffs out a laugh, imagines her father, with all his bravado and talk of fate and the stone-set path he believed in. A mocking smile plays on her lips. She wonders what he'd make of this.

* * *

The sky is a deep red hue now, and the dark cloud of ash only seems to be growing. _Not long now_ , she tells herself. _Soon this will all be over._

It's two weeks until Christmas; she's kept count since the very beginning. It had been mid-March when the news bulletin had flared to life, headlines all screaming APOCALYPSE. When the call had rung out, that the world was ending, no one had really believed it. She'd barely believed it herself, and perhaps wouldn't have, if she hadn't seen the research with her own eyes, done each and every calculation herself.

She remembers the moment all too well. The world had just sat in a sort of cool shock. No one moved. Then the panic set in. Humanity went into a frenzy, locking themselves away in their homes with years and years of emergency supplies, as if they could simply wait out the impending Apocalypse. But once the floods started, no one was safe. Earthquakes, eruptions, landslides, fires raging non-stop for six months now. It's almost biblical, in a way. It feels like purification. The ash is hot on her tongue, cleansing her from the inside out.

* * *

Sunrise and sunset have taken on a very surreal quality now that most of the world has gone up in smoke. She often imagines she is the only one in the whole world witnessing the dazzling red and yellow hues slowly spreading across the morning and evening skies. Rays of light reflect off the dark plumes of smoke, creating an artwork of wispy pinks and purples. For a moment, it feels as if things are going to change, as if the world will simply return to normal. For a moment, everything is at peace.

She doesn't ever stay in one place very long, not anymore, but she always lingers at dawn and dusk, mesmerised.

She knows it's a facade for the ugly truth - the world is going to end, and they are all going to die. She's accepted it with a sense of peaceful resignation. No number of perfect sunrises and sunsets will prevent the impending destruction of planet Earth.

It doesn't stop her from watching every one, though.

* * *

She counts herself lucky; she's one of few to have made it into in the world's last "safe zone". Of course, Genosha's continued survival, even six months after the first wave is due in no small part to its radioactive occupants. It seems that mutants have once again asserted their "superiority" over the lowly human race, having managed to stall the apocalypse just that little bit longer. _Genetically mutated humans acting as Earth's last defence_. _The final survivors. How ironic._ Then again, it's not like she's any different.

They've outdone themselves this time. Blockades and enormous rock walls prevent the tsunamis from reaching their shores, while Magneto manipulates the Earth's own magnetic field to neutralise earthquakes. She has to admit the ingenuity of it all, but she'd never give them the further satisfaction. She'd actually offered to help, initially, but mutants are still wary of the Inhumans, and they regard her well-meant offers with suspicion. She finds it funny, that even at the end of the world prejudice still reigns over survival instinct. She's not an idiot, however, nor as reckless and outspoken as she had once been. She accepts their sanctuary gratefully, and does her best to keep out of their way. In return, they mostly leave her to her own devices, and she's free to wander the island at her own will, stopping in each city only to replenish her supplies.

In stark contrast to the rest of the world, Genosha is almost thriving. The mutants have developed an "apocalypse system", one that both keeps the island running and maintains order and control. Charles Xavier has been promoted to President X, and he and his X-Men ensure that things are running smoothly. How he and Magneto ever managed to reconcile is completely beyond her, but the end of all things makes for interesting bedfellows, she supposes. _Perhaps literally,_ she thinks to herself, grimacing slightly. _Ugh. Not touching that one with a ten foot pole._ She'd met them only once, and had been unsurprised by the President's kind and friendly attitude. Magneto, on the other hand, had shocked her with his polite curiosity about the Inhumans. Of all the mutants she's met, she thinks, those two have probably been the most accepting of her "kind" (although she uses that term loosely - she still doesn't really understand how they're all connected). The others seem to view Inhumans as a threat to their own power. The rivalry, however petty, is certainly not one-sided. The Inhumans disappeared shortly after the fires began, taking their entire city with them. She imagines Crystal and her family, still surrounded in luxury and watching the chaos on Earth with cool disinterest. Of course the Inhumans would have a mobile, flight-capable city.

It was the last body to make it past the now-toxic atmosphere.

Genosha is more quiet than usual this morning. She's been surprised by how calm everyone appears. No savage killing sprees, no riots in the streets. Then again, it's not as if there's much to riot about. Or, more likely, anyone to riot _against_. Mother Nature probably isn't listening, anyway.

* * *

Today, she's perched atop a particularly high cliff just outside of Hammer Bay. It took her three hours to hike through the dense forest, but the view she is welcomed with is more than worth it.

The ocean, marred only by the tall, unforgiving walls surrounding the island, is an awesome sight to top off her week.

She's pretty sure even Genosha is on it's last legs now, and the constant barrage of water is starting to weaken the once-strong and unassailable outer walls. _Soon_ , she tells herself.

She spins her pocketknife through her fingers, waiting for the coming night. Sunset has yet to arrive in full force, but already the oranges and pinks have begun spilling across the sky. Skye closes her eyes, willing her brain to ingrain that picturesque scene in her mind forever (or, at least, until tomorrow morning). She drinks in the evening light, breathes new air into her lungs. the scene feels too peaceful, all of a sudden, and she tenses, something stirring within, a rusty machine slowly whirring to life.

Something rustles behind her. Age-old training kicks in, her reflexes instantly respond and she whirls and stands simultaneously, gun appearing like lightning in her right hand. Eyes sharp and focused, she eyes the forest behind her warily.

"Who's there?" She calls into the looming trees. "Show yourself." It could be a wild animal, perhaps even just the wind rustling the leaves, but she's a well-trained dog, and has a gut instinct born of years and years of experience - there is no doubt in her mind that what she heard was another person.

"Well," a too-familiar voice cuts through the trees, stopping her in her tracks. "Fancy seeing you here."

Grant Ward steps out into the clearing, eyes doing a brief scan of the locale before coming to rest on her face.

"How've you been, Skye?" His voice holds no trace of any mockery or condescension. He sounds neither affected nor fake, and carries himself with an immutable air of cool confidence. His eyes are painfully earnest and brutally honest. He looks completely relaxed, even though she knows they both feel the think tension in the air between them.

He hasn't changed at all.

She doesn't bother to reply, electing instead to send a clear message with a flat stare.

"You look well," he continues without missing a beat. "I see SHIELD managed to teach you a few things."

"I ran into Coulson a few months ago, you know," he says conversationally, as if he's not talking essentially talking to a brick wall. "Just before the Playground fell. He said you vanished long before the chaos even began." He looks at her chidingly. "The Skye I knew would never have abandoned her friends like that. Not when they needed her most."

It's infuriating, she thinks to herself, how he hasn't seen her in years, yet somehow still knows how to push all her buttons, still knows all her weak spots.

"They didn't," a voice rings out into the momentary silence, and it takes her a moment to realise it's her own. "They didn't need me anymore." She refuses to give him any more on the subject.

"And how are you, _Agent Ward_?" She emphasises the last three syllables mockingly, throwing back his betrayal in his face. "I seem to notice a lack of your dark-side friends," she spits out. "Oh wait, let me guess! You betrayed them too!" She smiles cruelly. "Guess all that fence-sitting did you no good at the end."

"Hey," Ward lifts his hands in a placating gesture. She can see the handgun hidden in the back of his trousers though. She doesn't lower her own. "I'm not going to fight with you," he adds. "Nor hurt, manipulate, or taunt you, or anything else you might dream up." His eyes meet hers, and there's nothing but sincerity. Her resolve falters. "I told you, I'm-"

"Never going to lie to me again, yeah. Got the memo," she cuts him off, fingers tightening on the gun even as her conscience wages war with itself. "We've been through all this before, and I think I've been perfectly clear: You will never be able to make up for what you did!"

He bows his head, but they both know it's an empty gesture. "I know," he says softly. "Look Skye, you can't ever forgive me. Fair enough.But can we at least talk? I'm sure it's been months since you saw a familiar face-" He's right, but she doesn't say anything "-and, whatever you think, I am genuinely glad to see you." Alive, he doesn't say, but the word hangs in the air anyway. He walks slowly toward her, hands still raised. "Just- leave it all behind, okay? For now." He looks at her imploringly. "Please."

And God, if her heart strings don't clench.

"Goddammit, Ward," she mutters. She examines him once more, then in a flash the gun is gone, and the pocketknife sheathed. "But if you try anything," she adds through gritted teeth.

"I won't," he states calmly, dropping his hands. "I'm not an idiot. I know you have a dozen other weapons hidden on you, and I know you'd wouldn't really need any of them, if you really wanted to hurt me." It's an unspoken acknowledgement of her abilities, and she tilts her head slightly, not bothering to contain her pride. Whether or not Coulson and May ever really approved, she's worked hard to learn to control her powers, and she knows her own strength.

Despite how much she detests him, Skye can't help but admit it. Ward looks good. He's spent a lot of time outdoors, she observes, eyes skimming over the light but not unnoticeable tan he's picked up. Like her, he never stopped training, and it's evident from the defined muscles in his arms and legs that he's been working harder than ever. _Probably just something to do_ , she muses. He's got a number of new scars, most trivial, but one in particular stands out, a barely-healed round knot of skin below his right shoulder which looks like-

"A hook." Brown eyes regard her curiously even as she flushes, caught staring. Thankfully, he ignores her discomfort. "Coulson..." He frowns. "Well, let's just say he wasn't too pleased to see me."

She doesn't reply, but inclines her head.

Coulson had become battle-hardened and war-weary by the time she had left; she'd often feared-

"He didn't trust me anymore," she admits out loud. "I was an Inhuman - he hadn't exactly had great experiences with alien species."

Ward watches her quietly, waiting for her to continue. "I think meeting Reader unnerved him. Everyone else, too," she adds. "I think they were afraid of my potential. Not that I wasn't!" She added hastily. "Of course there was Trip, and I felt so guilty, but they'd said it wasn't my fault and it had been years since... All that." Ward looks at her, not saying a word. "They protected me at first. They protected me for years, even encouraged me to use my abilities to some extent. But when I tried to introduce some of the others..." She swallows. "It was just little things at first. But then, they, uh," she stumbles slightly over her words, "they stopped telling me the big stuff, you know? Distracted me with all these low-level missions whilst trying to convince me the other Inhumans were dangerous. But I knew Crystal," she says, fingers clenching and unclenching, "and the rest of the Royal Family, and I was friends with them and so," she shrugs, "eventually they stopped telling me things altogether, citing various misunderstandings and 'he said she saids'," she waves her arms around," but it's not like I was an idiot or anything. I mean, I was Level 10 clearance, you know?" She looks away. "So I left. Packed my things and disappeared just before all this-" she gestures around them, "started."

He nods, and it's somehow an infinitely better response than any she'd anticipated. She turns back to the sea, and slowly drops into her previous position at the edge. She refuses to look back at him, and, after a moment, she feels him sit beside her.

"Anyway," she says finally, "they're probably all dead now, so what does it matter? I doubt any of them made it here." She pauses, frowning. "How did you make it here?"

"Come on, Skye, do you really have so little faith in me?" He smirks lightly. "I snuck in before the walls finally closed, passed myself off as a mutant, then went into hiding." He grins. "I've kept under their radar for months. The only reason you heard me in the forest was because I was surprised to see you."

A laugh escapes her lips, unbidden. "Whatever you say, Ward," she teases, surprised at how easy it is for her to slip back into their old routine, to look past the past and just see Ward, her S.O. and her friend.

She stops herself, forcing her gaze back out to sea. The sunset is slowly dying away, the colours fading as the darkness looms; ever-present and just over the horizon. Inevitable.

She watches the sun slowly slip just over the sea, just out of reach. They must make an odd picture, she thinks. The former SHIELD agent who never quite fit in and the former HYDRA agent who only ever wanted to be understood. She leans against him silently, trying to convey something not quite tangible, and he shifts slightly so she can rest her head on his shoulder. It's an uneasy reconciliation at best, and they both know that. There's still years of unresolved issues between them, but she feels compelled to stay in the illusion just that little bit longer; to pretend, if only for a little whole, that things would be alright.

Ward is never going to lie to her again, she knows this for certain. He was honest with her then, and he's honest with her now.

She thinks she can deal with that.

"It's beautiful out here," he says, and, just for a moment, Skye allows herself to wonder.


End file.
